Somewhere on the Road
by inagaddadavita
Summary: Sam and Castiel go on a road trip.  It doesn't go as Sam expected.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural, its characters, or anything else recognizable in the following. This is a piece of fanfiction that I had fun writing, but otherwise gained nothing from :)

**Warnings/Spoilers:** Violence; This is a GenFic, however there are some very vaguely non-gen parts. It is _still_ Gen; Spoilers through 5x22, the rest is just speculation. I started writing this before the first spoilers came out for season 6, so any possible resemblance to anything after 5x22 is purely coincidental... however, I somehow don't think this will be a problem.

**Beta:** This is _not_ betaed. I wish it were, but it's not. I have proof read it however, and it even passed spell check. If you have the time or inclination, please let me know if you find anything that needs to be corrected. Thanks :)

**Characters:** Sam; Castiel; Some mentions of Dean and even smaller mentions of other familiar characters.

**Summary: **Sam and Castiel go on a road trip. It doesn't go as Sam expected.

**A/N: **This story is complete in 8 parts totalling 19000 words. It will be updated regularly, but probably not on days when I have a stretch of more than one 12 hour shift in front of me in a row. In that case, I just go home, eat, sleep, then go back to work.

**Somewhere on the Road**

_What a roadtrip stands for is hope. Hope, that somewhere, anywhere is better than here..._

_-Ira Glass_

Prologue

Dusk fell slowly over the oceanside park and Sam felt like a shadow standing in the fading light. Tall, dark, formless, like he had lost some all important part of himself that made him belong in the world. He was detached and weary and empty, and the hole that he realized must have always been within him had finally swallowed him up. Somehow he knew that this was the end and he found he was actually ready for it. When his cell phone rang, he had dutifully given his location, and waited.

"Of course I came myself, Sam," Castiel said. "I could never send another... not for you."

The voice was even deeper, more gravelly than usual. Sam thought fancifully that it might have been laced with regret, if he didn't know better. Castiel had a job to do, and his sense of Heavenly duty seemed to have returned tenfold with his reinstatement to the Host. No longer lost, saddened, angry as he had been when he was separated from his kin, the angel was just calm and serene once again. As if nothing had ever happened.

As Sam watched, Castiel's tan trench coat undulated in the light September breeze. His hair was as messy as Sam had ever remembered it, maybe more so. Some things never changed, Castiel's appearance least of all. Always the same dark suit, the same loosely knotted tie, perpetually dry cleaned and in perfect repair, but equally rumpled and lived in. Sam dropped his eyes from the angel's intense blue, wide-eyed gaze. It was sincere, saddened, but completely resolute.

As comforting as Castiel's presence could be, there was something about him that Sam couldn't help but find disturbing. Although he had nothing against the angel personally, even thought of him as a friend, Sam had hoped that perhaps Castiel's vessel, Jimmy Novak, had finally been allowed to go home to his family, but it appeared this was not the case. He would continue to be a prisoner to Castiel's consciousness until the angels were finally gone again from the Earth, and from the looks of things, that would be awhile.

Even though they had finally stopped Lucifer and the Apocalypse, the world today was as lawless as it had ever been, even more so. There seemed to be no plan, just desperate demons, angels, and everything between. The angels would remain until some semblance of order was restored. That is, until they imposed the kind of order that satisfied them. At least, he was pretty sure that's how it was supposed to go, and to Sam this was a nagging reminder of Heaven's control over the destiny of mere mortals. He was painfully aware that despite everything he was definitely mortal, just like Jimmy and everyone else who had suffered under the juggernaut of Heaven's agenda.

Ultimately it was all another pile of crap in a whole big long line of the same that just pissed Sam off. He brushed it away into a corner of his mind, hoping to forget it like all the other things he tried to forget. And all the people he tried to forget too, himself included.

As a distraction from this morose line of thought, Sam decided to look around. He noted that he and Castiel were standing in the center of a killing field, the fallen littered haphazardly around them as if they were the epicenter of a blast. More than twenty corpses lay where the demons possessing them had been burned from their host vessels. Demons didn't take care of their vessels. Their hosts had probably been long dead. There were no survivors.

"I could have taken care of them myself," Sam muttered. "After all, you must know what I've become."

"Perhaps." Castiel replied, finally dropping his own eyes to survey the damage. "But it never hurts to have assistance. I do not wish to see you injured."

"What does it matter, Cas?" Sam's eyes flashed up sharply, but the only thing that glowed there was resignation.

"I'm dead anyway, Right?" His face twitched into a mockery of a smile. "No, I'm worse than dead. There's no Heaven for me, and the angels sure as hell won't send me back to... well, Hell. I obviously know how to get out now anyway. And... lets be honest Cas, Heaven doesn't need a liability like me out there. You know that better than anybody. Even if I don't need the demon blood anymore, there's no going back for me now."

Castiel looked away, seemingly shamed, and Sam just sighed.

"Look Cas... It's okay. I get it, I really do. It's not your fault anyway."

Sam turned and led them away from the grizzly clearing. Even the dead did not need to bear witness to what was to come next. When they were safely hidden in a small grove of evergreens, Sam steeled himself. He stood a little straighter, hands jerked into involuntary fists.

"I'm ready." He held his breath, closed his eyes, and waited.

When nothing happened after what seemed like forever, Sam's eyes flickered open... and fell on Castiel's smiling face. Well, it was more like a minute quirk at the corner of the angel's mouth, but for Castiel, this was close to full-on amusement. Sam glared at him.

"_I'm _not ready, Sam," he said. The sort-of smile fell from his face, but the sparkle in his eyes remained.

"I said it was okay," Sam said. "Really, I just want to get this over with. I can't do the job... not like you can, not as completely...or I probably would." He shook his head to clear it and closed his eyes again.

"But you're not finished here." Castiel said slowly, drawing Sam from his tense finality. "After all, you've only just embarked on this journey."

"You're going to allow that?"

"Of course. How could we deny you this. Your... last request." Castiel's eyes turned down again, even as he stood statue-like in the falling darkness.

"But it'll take days... _weeks_ probably."

"That will be fine, Sam. We are patient."

"Well, that's a first. Patient angels. Hold on while I mark this down in my calendar."

"Sarcasm." Castiel shook his head and looked thoughtful. "That was _completely _unexpected."

And then Sam was laughing. Not just a hey-that-was-kinda-funny laugh, but a full-throated guffaw that he thought would knock him on his ass. Far more laughter than the conversation probably deserved, but it was just what he needed.

"Okay..." Sam finally wheezed out after most of his long spent mirth had subsided. "Are you sure that the angels will be fine with this? That they'll wait?"

"I'll make sure of it," Castiel assured him. "I have patience for us all."

The resulting smile on Sam's face practically lit up the falling gloom, and then he started to talk very, very fast.

"So, the trip starts here in Vancouver... but then I'll head south and eventually pick up the 101, then Highway One all the way down to San Diego. I realize I'm still hidden from you guys and everything, but since I'll be dropping by most of the tourist sites on the way down, I shouldn't be too hard to find... if your patience starts to wear thin that is. Don't worry, I won't try to skip out. And I don't think that..."

"Sam," Castiel interrupted, eyes boring into him as if he were looking through to the back of Sam's skull, "you won't be hard to find at all. Because I'll be going with you."

"I guess I kinda figured."

"I'm sorry." Castiel fidgeted a little, not looking at Sam again for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes. "I will of course be as unobtrusive as possible. You'll hardly know I'm there."

He looked back up at Sam, a slight frown on his face as if awaiting an explosion. Instead, Sam just smiled warmly.

"Actually, I was hoping you might want to come along," Sam said, hand falling on Castiel's shoulder in a friendly gesture. Castiel started a little, but otherwise didn't move. Sam pulled his hand back. Of course Castiel would be a little jumpy in close proximity to him, tainted as he was, it was hardly the angel's fault. He cleared his throat. "Most of the places I'm planning to go would be better with company... and I'd really rather not be alone, okay?"

"Okay, Sam," Castiel said as he turned to follow him out of the park. Then he paused to glance back momentarily.

"If I may ask," Castiel said, "what was your reason for coming to this place?"

"The black squirrels," Sam said, stopping, turning back as well.

"You came here for squirrels?" It was barely a question. More a statement of incredulity.

"Yeah... black squirrels with red eyes. I'd heard about them. Wondered if they were possessed."

"They're not," Castiel said simply. "The people were though."

"Yeah. I suppose. Evil-looking squirrels. Normal. Normal-looking people. Evil. Who would've guessed?"

"It's to be expected. Looks can be deceiving."

Sam glanced down briefly at his own hands before starting back toward the parking lot. Then, so quiet that Castiel nearly missed it, even with angelic hearing...

"Yeah, they can be."


	2. Part 1

**Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings**

Many thanks to all who reviewed, favorited, or put this story on their alerts list. Thanks also to everyone who took the time to read it. Concrit is always appreciated if you are able to give it... :)

Part 1

If Crazy Larry and Dirty Mary were demons, or anything else freaky or supernatural, Sam could not tell. His recent ability to _know _the difference seemed somewhat muted as of late. Either that, or Larry and Mary really were just crazy and... dirty, he supposed. Larry had introduced them and Sam had ignored him hoping they would go away. They hadn't obliged yet. Mary seemed irritated with her nickname, but Larry kept using it all the same, frequently, each time ogling her with wide eyes that showed white all around dark brown irises and almost seemed to spin in their sockets. Whatever else he was, Larry was definitely crazy.

Sam and Castiel met them at a petting zoo near Seattle of all places. Sam had insisted on going there after mumbling something about 'making up for lost time.' He gently pet the small goats and chickens that clustered around him, a look of child-like wonder on his face, while Castiel stood stiffly nearby. Larry and Mary, dressed like a couple of middle-aged hippies from the sixties, had gravitated to them. Apparently Sam and Castiel were a couple of '_strange' _magnets. Make that electromagnets.

"Plates say you're from Canada," Larry said. "You don't sound Canadian."

Sam continued to ignore him, wondering exactly how Larry could tell when Sam had barely spoken since he and Mary had accosted him. Then it was Mary's turn.

"You gotta watch out for the llamas," Mary was telling Sam in a stage whisper, hand falling on his shoulder in a way too familiar gesture. "They'll spit at ya."

Sam realized this was true from some Animal Planet show he had watched a lifetime ago. Although it didn't seem to matter since he hadn't noticed any llamas here anyway. He continued to pet the small pony at his knee without looking at her.

"Only when they're annoyed," Castiel supplied helpfully.

Sam closed his eyes, dropped his head, and sighed. He had really hoped ignoring them might make this strange couple go away, but instead...

"Hey," Mary said turning to look at Castiel, hands falling to clasp in front of her, absently rubbing together, "you two together?"

"Yes." Castiel's blank look never changed. "We are."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. He could see the direction this conversation was headed, and apparently Castiel was still a little naive regarding human situations, especially odd ones like this. He opened his mouth to say something, but Mary continued.

"Well, since you boys are visitors around here, you're welcome to come bunk with us tonight if you need a place to stay," she said.

Castiel's head tilted in its patented way. "That's very kind of you..." he said.

Then Sam was suddenly next to him conspicuously kicking the side of Castiel's leg.

"...but completely unnecessary," Castiel finished, chin tipping slightly upward. Then he glanced accusingly at Sam as if he had been planning to refuse Mary's hospitality all along.

"We got a big trailer," Mary kept prattling along. "Lots of extra room. We can set up the extra bed. You'll have your privacy... mostly."

Mary's eyebrows waggled while Larry grinned and ogled her with his crazy, spinning eyeballs.

Okay, so that's why she's called Dirty Mary, Sam thought.

"Mary and I love having company for dinner," Larry said, the corners of his overly large mouth almost seeming to disappear around the sides of his face. "We're very friendly."

Finally, unable to take any more, Sam hastily excused them, took Castiel's sleeve none too gently, and tugged him toward the corral gate. Sam could feel Crazy Larry and Dirty Mary's eyes on their backs. They made him nervous. Maybe they _were_ demons.

"Sam," Castiel said sharply, "be careful of the feces!" He was watching the ground cautiously trying to avoid the clods of animal droppings mixed with hay that lay in their escape route.

"Jeez, Cas," Sam said, amazed at the angel's priorities, "if we step in it, you can always use your angelic cleaning, right?"

"I'd rather not have to, so... just please be careful, okay?"

"Whatever, Cas."

Then Sam noticed that Larry and Mary were following them. The friendly smiles previously plastered on their faces were gone. He shoved Castiel a little roughly out the corral door and pulled him into a run, hand tightly gripping the arm of the angel's trench coat. Then, suddenly, they were in front of their motel room... and Sam slammed face-first into the door, _hard_.

"Cas," Sam said as calmly as he could, peeling himself away from the door. "A little warning with the insta-travel, huh? It's, um... disconcerting." Sam rubbed his face gingerly. "And dangerous."

"Sorry, it seemed the expedient thing to do." Castiel shook his head slightly.

There was a long pause as Sam just glared at him.

"Okay," Castiel said appeasingly, eyes rolling in a very human expression. "Next time I'll land us farther away from solid objects."

"Thank you," Sam said. "I would really appreciate that. And what were you doing talking to those weirdos anyway."

"I was being polite."

"Some people just really need to be ignored," Sam said. "And dude, those two totally thought we were together."

"We are."

"No, I mean they thought we were _together_."

"But... we are." Castiel tipped his head, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. "Aren't we?"

"No... I mean, they thought I was your boyfriend. Why do people always think stuff like that?"

"Well, You _are_ my friend, Sam. Right?"

"We're not having sex together Cas," Sam said bluntly. "_That's_ what they thought."

Castiel's eyes widened minutely. "I understand," he said, then shook his head. "But it's not important. They were after all 'crazy' and 'dirty' if I understood their introductions correctly."

Sam grunted in agreement as he fumbled for the motel keys. He sighed deeply. That conversation had taken a lot more work than he had bargained for. All things considered, he was beginning to think he needed a vacation from his vacation.

{{{{}}}}

A short time later Sam and Castiel stood in the familiar motel room. Not that they had been here before, except to bring their stuff from the car, but Sam had seen a million like it. The two twin beds, the ubiquitous room divider separating the sleeping area from the eating area, this time with a seagull motif. The door swung shut behind them compliments of gravity and off-level construction, and Sam opened the musty smelling mini-fridge in the corner.

"Want a beer?" he asked, shoving a bottle in Castiel's direction.

Castiel looked at the drink noncommittally, then finally accepted it and made himself comfortable standing next to the desk. Sam flopped in a nearby chair and drank his beer, then another, and another.

"You know," Sam said, breaking a particularly long stretch of silence, "it's not like I thought it would be at all."

Sam was still sprawled in the chair, perhaps sinking a little closer to the floor, while Castiel had loosened up and was leaning against the desk instead of just standing next to it.

Realizing that Sam was staring at him expectantly, Castiel finally responded.

"What did you think it would be like?" he asked.

"When I was ten years old, we went on this trip down the coast. You know, Dad, Dean, me. It was an epic road trip. I wanted nothing more than to see the sights and have fun, you know? Like other kids did on summer vacation."

"But what did we do? Do you know what the standard of every Winchester family vacation was?" Sam looked at Castiel who shook his head obligingly, even though he probably did know.

"We hunted," Sam continued. "We exorcised some poltergeists, beheaded a few vampires, even looked into a Big Foot sighting that turned out to be some rogue grizzly bear that almost had me for lunch. We basically salted and burned our way down the coast. What kind of a childhood memory is that, huh?"

Sam tipped the remaining contents of his latest beer into his mouth, swallowed and continued.

"Well, I want it back. The way it was supposed to be. I want it all back if it's the last thing I do. And, uh...I guess it will be. I sure hope it picks up a little though, 'cause this isn't at all what I expected. There are demons everywhere, and thank God for sending you, at least the angels are off my back. I just want to forget about all of them. No offense Cas." He took another swig of his latest beer and fell silent.

"None taken," Castiel replied.

"I kinda wish Dean were here," Sam said finally. "I wonder how he's doing."

"I haven't seen him either," Castiel said. "Not since... shortly after we lost you."

"Good," Sam said, a little too emphatically, and Castiel tipped his head, confused. "I mean, it's good you left him alone... with Lisa and Ben. It's better for him. He needs that, after the life he's had. Our life... it hasn't been easy you know. He needs this."

"Perhaps he needs a connection with his previous life too," Castiel reasoned. "Human bonds of family and friendship are not easily broken. Especially for Dean."

"He has a new family now," Sam said, then with a hint of irritation, "What makes you think you know so much about Dean anyway?"

"I put his soul back into his body, remember," Castiel said. "I think I may have some small understanding of these things."

"I get it, Cas," Sam said, suddenly unbearably weary. "And maybe that's the way it _should_ work, but from a _human_ perspective... I just... I can tell you this is for the best. Dean will much happier without you... or me... reminding him of everything that's gone wrong in his life."

"I understand, Sam," Castiel conceded. "I"m sorry. I won't speak of it anymore."

Sam closed his eyes and soon felt what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I promise you this," Castiel said slowly, solemnly. "Everything will be okay."

"No it won't."

"Yes it will."

Sam didn't feel like arguing anymore, so he just kept quiet. He had no interest in or patience for empty promises. Lies really. He knew where he was headed. He knew his days were numbered. And there was nothing anybody could do about it. Not anybody. Not even an angel of the Lord. At least Dean would be still be okay when this was all over.

{{{{}}}}


	3. Part 2

**Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings**

Thanks again for reviewing/reading. And yes weiyaoli, this is complete. I'll try to update daily :)

Part 2

It was smooth sailing for awhile. They stood on an ashen cornice atop Mount Saint Helen's; strolled through the Oregon Coast Aquarium like normal tourists, Sam taking pictures he knew he would never have the chance to reminisce over; watched the sun gleam off the Golden Gate Bridge; walked in the hush of the Redwood Forest. They stopped at secluded beaches along the way and watched the sun set over the ocean. Sam never got tired of seeing the light disappear below the horizon, each sunset burnt into his memory as one of his last. Castiel stared too, stock still and serious, as if he were thinking the same thing, even though he really couldn't be. Amazingly, there had been no more signs so far of any supernatural creatures, demons, or angels, beside the obvious, and Sam finally found himself feeling relaxed and more normal than he had in a long time.

It was at a diner just after leaving the Redwood Forest that things hit the fan again.

Sam and Castiel sat at a corner table in full view of the door, each with their back to a different wall as if by instinct. Late afternoon sun fell in stripes through open blinds across the front row of tables as the dinner crowd began to wander in. This was apparently a busy local dining spot, and the bench seats and tables all filled up steadily. Sam sat scanning his menu even though he knew he would order the same thing he had the last time, and the time before that. Diners had no shortage of cheeseburgers after all. Not his usual fare, but these were his last meals and it seemed fitting somehow to honor his brother with diner food. He planned to have pie for desert too.

Sam folded his menu and looked up, startled by the waitress standing there chewing her gum, lips slightly open, pen poised over her pad. Castiel was staring out the window with his menu still open in front of him, apparently fascinated by a few white clouds passing by. Sam coughed and Castiel's attention was drawn back to him, then to the waitress.

"My apologies," Castiel said, folding his own menu.

"So, what'll it be?" the waitress asked. She was young and pretty and batted her eyelashes at Sam, and he had to smile, even if he really didn't feel like it. Her tag said her name was Sara though she hadn't actually introduced herself. She smacked her gum and smiled back.

"Um, Sara..." Sam started uncertainly. Then, pausing as if he'd had to give it some amount of thought, "I'd like a bacon cheeseburger, with everything on it... side of fries and a chocolate milkshake."

Then he nodded to Castiel. "The usual coffee for you Cas?" he offered.

"No," Castiel replied. "I think I'll have a sandwich... uh... the turkey club I guess, and this says it comes with a beverage." He nodded down to the menu.

"What kind of beverage?" Sara asked drumming her pen on the pad, her face adopting a long suffering look even though she really hadn't been waiting that long.

"Whatever you think would go with a sandwich," Castiel replied absently, head turning back toward the window. Sara rolled her eyes impatiently.

Sam shrugged his shoulders apologetically. "Just bring him, ah... an iced tea," he said. "Maybe with some milk and honey or something."

"Okay," Sara replied, suddenly smiling and chewing once again, then turned and bounced away with a quick glance and wink over her shoulder.

Sam smiled down at the table and shook his head, then looked up at Castiel. He was still staring out the window, and even though his face was a blank slate, there was a palpable tension about him, shoulders straight, hands flattened on the table.

"There's something wrong," Castiel said. His expression was hauntingly unchanged. Then he turned toward Sam. "We should leave. Now."

Sam's eyes whipped toward the window in alarm. The stripes of sun on the tables faded, and the room dimmed more than was naturally possible. The darkness of a storm was upon them, but there was something more. Sam was on his feet suddenly and snapped open one of the blinds between his thumb and forefinger.

The sky was black. Not storm black, but another familiar blackness. The clouds weren't just rolling in. They were writhing, roiling, and moving very quickly. Castiel stood as Sam backed away from the window, knocking into the table. Then all eyes turned toward the door which had blown wide open, despite the fact that the hinges opened outward. The cloud poured in and latched onto the diners, seeming to suffocate them as it forced its way down their throats.

"Hey," a man at the counter shouted, indignant, "there's no smoking in here!" Then he too was overcome.

Within seconds those same eyes turned toward Sam and Castiel. They were black. They were all black.

"We have to leave, Sam," Castiel said again, voice carrying surprisingly well over the rushing wind that still whirled in the small diner.

"No!" Sam yelled. "We can't leave them like this. I can send them away... you can too." Sam pleaded with his eyes, a desperate look. "Let's do this."

"We need to choose our battles, Sam," Castiel said, exasperated. "This is neither the time nor place..." He raised a hand to Sam's face, two fingers out to transport them away.

"I said no!" Sam said angrily, grabbing Castiel's wrist, hard.

A pained look crossed Castiel's face and he jerked his hand away, briefly cradling his arm. The smell of burnt flesh reached Sam's nose, and he looked in horror at the reddened mark mottling the skin below the cuff of the angel's trench coat.

"I'm sorry... I...I didn't mean..." Sam stuttered, then his attention was pulled to the crowd closing in around them. His jaw clenched tightly once, then released. "We _can't_ leave them like this. Please... just help me out here Cas!"

And they were cornered, literally, but at least nothing could come from behind. Sam closed his eyes, hand outstretched, concentrating his power towards exorcising the entire room of demons if possible, he had done it before after all, but soon his eyes flickered open in surprise as he found that he needed to focus on each one separately. He hadn't thought that his power could become 'flabby' as Ruby had noted so long ago... not anymore. Maybe these demons were stronger. He supposed it ultimately didn't matter. Either way he would get the job done.

Then Sam reached his hand out and, once and again squeezed his fingers into a tight fist, each time forcing another black cloud from another mouth, exorcising each demon with his mind as was his gift, his curse. He could feel the demonic minds pulling at him, but they weren't powerful enough to toss him around the room as they could a normal human. His eyes narrowed and he smiled even as hands reached for him, pulled at him.

Castiel had his back. At one point a demon managed to break through and struck Sam's outstretched hand, and then his face, distracting him from his task, but the angel's palm went to its forehead, burning the demon from its vessel. In fact, there was a growing pile of hopefully unconscious bodies surrounding them, showing that Castiel had in fact been very busy.

Sam turned back to the remaining crowd. It was dwindling rapidly. But then, after the tenth, or was it the fifteenth exorcism – he'd lost count - a feeling of vertigo washed over him. He reached out and squeezed again and his vision began to fade at the edges. He swung around to Castiel, confused.

"Why..." Sam began, sinking to his knees in sudden weakness. He reached up and swiped at the wetness dripping from his nose, blood he realized glancing at his fingers.

And then he watched as Castiel, now focused on him and his new position on the floor, was struck in the side of the head by a chair wielding Sara, the flirtatious waitress turned demon. As Castiel fell, blood dripping from his forehead, she turned and leered at Sam, winking in a parody of her previous self. While she approached him, Sam watched blearily as the angel staggered to his feet behind her and, reaching a hand around her head, exorcised her as well. She fell in a heap against the side of a booth.

Only four demons remained now, but one was pulling Sam across the floor by his leg, while the other three faced off against Castiel. Sam floundered weakly, head aching, trying to squeeze the demon pulling at him from his host in a last ditch effort to end the confrontation. Blood poured from his nose, and he knew he had overextended himself. He hadn't thought it was possible. His vision was rapidly fading, coming and going in disconcerting bytes.

As Sam was dragged away, Castiel receded in front of him, pounded by poorly parried blows, but ultimately Sam watched as the hard won battle was concluded and the last of the three demons fell from Castiel's outstretched hand. Then he blinked and the angel was there, exorcising the demon pulling at him as well. The last thing Sam saw was Castiel, bloody and worn, two fingers outstretched, and this time he would be grateful for the quick angelic departure. Sam passed out in the brief instant between the diner and the motel room.

{{{{}}}}

Eventually he woke, but felt decidedly disoriented, fuzzy. Wherever he was it was lumpy. Sam noted the scratchy, linty bedspread beneath his hands and decided it must be his bed in the Easy Stay Inn. Even though it was quiet, his head still throbbed. He considered letting the darkness take him away once more, but finally, reluctantly pried his sticky, burning eyes open. It was thankfully dim in the room and Sam's head was turned to the wall. He managed to turn, slowly, painfully, head swimming, to the rest of the room. There in the other bed lay another figure, cast in shadows.

"Dean?" Sam asked weakly, mind still foggy and blurry. But Dean wasn't here. Not this time. "Cas?"

Then everything came crashing in. All of Sam's memories, blissfully forgotten in the insensible grayness of unconsciousness, returned in a great crushing blow. The things that had brought him here. What he was. Where he was going. Everything. The bitterness was too much and his eyes started to blur and sting. His heart fell and his stomach clenched and he let the darkness close on him once again. He was happy for it this time.

Waking the next time was much better than before. There was no pain, just a fuzziness that actually felt somewhat pleasant, like a slight beer buzz just before falling asleep. Sam smiled a little letting the feeling settle into his bones before opening his eyes. And when he did, there was Castiel sitting on a chair next to the bed, too close, just staring at him.

"Cas?" Sam asked, and remembering the figure last night in the now empty bed, "Are you okay?" Then he scrubbed his face with one hand and sat up to the side of the bed. The bed next to him appeared unrumpled, like it had never been slept in. And Castiel looked unruffled, as he had before. Sam's head _had_ hurt before, maybe he'd imagined it all.

"Yes Sam. I'm fine."

"I dreamed I..." Sam paused while Castiel continued to look impassively on. "It wasn't a dream, was it? Not all of it." He paused, hands scrubbing again on his face and shook his head as if he were shaking out cobwebs.

"Cas... what happened back there?" he finally asked, fog clearing little by little. "How did they find us? What happened to me?"

"I suspect our itinerary has become somewhat... predictable," Castiel said, eyes glancing away as if searching for his next thought. "As you earlier suggested it might."

Sam just looked at him, suddenly pale and sighed. "So it's over then... It's time to put a stop to all of this, is that what you're saying?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Castiel said after a pause, head shaking slightly. "But you are not invincible Sam. Nor am I. Those were _very_ powerful demons and they were sent for you. There is no need to cut your trip short, but we must be more careful, more watchful. We can't take any chances like the one we took today. We can _not _chance you being captured by demons."

And here Sam realized the risk Castiel was taking. If he were to fall under demonic control he would become a threat to the Host, he knew that. Castiel was part of the Host and he should be thinking of them, or at least of himself, first. For whatever reason, the angel was willing to take that chance to give him this, his last request. Sam sighed and closed his eyes again.

"Like I said before Cas... what does it matter? You could...probably should end the problem right here, right now and... and nobody would ever know. I wouldn't remember. I wouldn't _be_ anymore. Not with my atoms scattered to the farthest reaches of the universe. Why are you doing this Cas?" And he fixed the angel with a challenging stare.

Sam almost thought that Castiel looked stricken at that. The angel's mouth was a line, eyes wide as he glanced to the heavens, view apparently unobscured by the stuccoed motel ceiling.

"Because you are my friend, Sam," he said. "I thought you already knew this."

Sam sighed heavily. That was a fair enough answer, he supposed.

"Okay, I get it...I'm sorry. I... I just don't know what to do anymore, okay? How to act." He laughed, small and humorless. "I guess _that_ won't be a problem for me much longer, right?"

Castiel didn't answer him and Sam really didn't expect him to anyway.

"So what do we do now?" Sam finally asked, hands falling to his knees with a sharp slap.

"As I said, there is no need to change any plans. We just need to 'be on our toes.'"

The last part, spoken slowly and deliberately, even sounded as if it belonged in quotation marks. Sam's eyebrows went up and he chuckled slightly. Castiel still was no better at incorporating colloquialisms into his language. It was just one of the things that made him who he was.

"Don't ever change Cas," Sam said smiling, dropping a hand on Castiel's wrist, a motion that drew a small choked gasp from the angel, and he pulled his hand away.

Sam had forgotten. He reached a tentative hand to the edge of Castiel's sleeve and carefully pulled it back. The reddened burn was still there, blistering and oozing, sticking to the material in places. He closed his eyes briefly so, just for an instant, he wouldn't have to see what he had done.

"Cas... I'm so sorry." Then Sam's brow pinched in confusion. "Can't you heal it?"

"No... not this. Don't worry. It will heal... given time."

"Let me...I don't know... lemme get something for it."

Sam rose to get some gauze from the first aid kit, then paused.

"Will it happen again if I touch you?" he asked.

"No, Sam." Castiel replied. "I believe it only burned because you were... excited. Your... power... It is diametrically opposed to mine. It could just as easily have happened the other way around."

By 'excited' Sam realized that Castiel meant 'angry' and by 'power', he meant 'Satanic taint.' He doubted that Castiel would have lost control over himself in that way, that the angel ever would have hurt him, but he let it slide. He let Castiel think he had made him feel better and retrieved the gauze from the kit. As he sat down to bandage the angel's wrist, his self recrimination continued. He could see the facts clearly in front of him. He knew he was an abomination. He blinked past stinging eyes.

"Sam," Castiel brought him back to reality. "Please. I told you. It will be okay."

"Depends on your point of view, doesn't it? Just... don't, okay?" Sam said. "I wish..."

"What?"

"I wish a lot of things. I wish I were normal, I wish...I wish I could talk to my brother again," Sam smiled bitterly. "I wish things were different... but, if wishes were horses... right?"

"Then beggars would ride," Castiel finished.

"Well, there's a figure of speech you seem comfortable with," Sam snorted. "An oldie but a goodie."

"I have added many idioms to my vocabulary and understanding," Castiel said. "I am simply unaccustomed to incorporating them into my speech patterns. I actually think I'm getting better at it."

He was pretty sure Castiel was wrong about that, but when all was said and done Sam was willing to humor him. Then Castiel looked at him, thoughtful.

"Would it help if you could see Dean?" Castiel asked hesitantly. "I understand. I miss him too. I'm sure he would..."

"No!" Sam said sharply, suddenly tense. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up again." Then he forced a smile. "Dean's better off where he is. He has a good life now. I want that for him. It's better if he thinks all this is over already." With that Sam seemed to deflate. "Please. Just... he's better off, just leave it at that."

"Okay," Castiel said. "It is your choice."

Sam finished wrapping Castiel's wrist, and the remainder of the night passed in silence. Sam thought about all the the hurt he had caused in a loop like a film reel repeating and repeating and repeating. He thought of his brother, suffering in Hell, his friends...dying. After all, the apocalypse was ultimately his fault, wasn't it? The self-hatred continued, snowballing until it was nearly more than he could bear. As Sam drifted to a fitful, guilt-ridden sleep that night, he found himself welcoming his end more and more.

{{{{}}}}


	4. Part 3 A

**Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings**

A/N: So... I _am_ working 3 12's in a row... and the computer's giving me trouble, and I'm really tired after last night... but I'm determined to get this posted in its entirety before it becomes AU, so I hope to update once/day until this is complete. Thanks again to all who reviewed, favorited, and read. To the reviewers a special thanks since every bit of feedback you give me helps me to figure out what to work on for my future projects. On to the next part :)

Part 3 A

Two days later things were finally back on track. Sort of. Sam had ultimately decided to cut his journey short sooner than planned, and he was at peace with it. His presence would no longer endanger Castiel, or any poor slob that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He found the idea to be freeing, but planned to keep it private for now. Castiel didn't need to know yet, not until the time came. And he did have one more place he wanted to go before everything would finally be put to rest.

The BeachWalk Carnival. A theme park an hour south of Santa Cruz that his family had totally bypassed on that previous trip, being deemed a "tourist trap" by their father. Sam had longed to go as a child, and this would be his last stop. The end of the line. Dean had called him a dweeb for wanting to go then, he would probably be of the same opinion still, but Dean wasn't here this time.

Sam adopted a far away smile as he sat on the motel room bed in front of his laptop, unused for months. The BeachWalk Carnival was a beach-side amusement park that had it all. Rides, live music, arcades, food... all on the beach. Fingers flickered over the familiar keyboard. The website showed it all. An excellent way to plan this, his last outing. But it seemed that a few attractions were currently closed. Several in fact. Sam squinted at the screen. There were times he wished he could let things go, but accustomed as he was to research and sniffing out the paranormal, he found himself digging deeper. And of course there had to be something strange about these closures. There always was.

The first incident, several weeks ago, had something something to do with an attraction called the Scare Stroll, which was supposed to be frightening by definition... but apparently there had been injuries. A near death in fact. Witnesses had described heavy objects being hurled at them, and feelings of suffocation, anxiety, coldness. There had been other, less intense sightings in the other attractions, which had apparently led to their closure as well, as a precaution presumably while maintenance assessed the areas. They had yet to reopen. Sam wondered to himself if this might have been a publicity stunt gone too far, but since it had all the trimmings of a haunting, it really needed to be looked into.

Sam shook his head, resigned. Somehow he kept getting pulled back in. Soon, however, he found himself smiling because, really, this _was_ the way he wanted to go out anyway. Sure, playing around in a theme park had been a childhood dream, but he realized that hunting was his true nostalgia now. Might as well take out some dangerous supernatural creature as his last act on earth. Save a few lives. Put a soul or two to rest. That would be an okay last legacy he guessed. Then Castiel could snap his fingers, or whatever he was going to do, and it would all be over. His grin widened as he shut off his laptop.

Then Castiel was there, cartons of the Chinese food Sam had ordered in hand, fortune cookies balanced on top. He placed them neatly on the small table across from the beds and started opening the boxes without a word. Sam found he actually had a real appetite today as he wandered toward the odor of freshly made take-out. After so many months of forcing himself to eat, due to poor appetite and nausea, he noticed these symptoms were all receding. He was finally feeling better. He breathed deeply and smiled.

They ate sitting in the room's only two chairs, Sam crunching an egg roll while Castiel helped himself to the chicken and rice. Sam was grateful that Castiel had decided to join him for meals lately. It made him feel less lonely, more the way things were supposed to be. An unexpected kindness based on insight Sam didn't realize Castiel was capable of, but he appreciated it nonetheless. Unable to contain his excitement, Sam filled the angel in on the park and the unusual happenings there between bites.

"You know this could easily be a trap," Castiel said, head tipping slightly.

"Or it could be a simple haunting and we could stop it," Sam countered, spirits dampened, eyes locked on his food. "Maybe save some lives."

Castiel shook his head. "No... Sam, haven't you learned anything from the last time?"

"Cas," Sam started sharply, then took a deep breath to calm himself. "Castiel, it seems to me that these demons find me whatever I'm doing. I go to the park, they're there. I go to eat dinner... they're there too. I totally expect to find one next time I go to the bathroom. They hardly seem to _need_ to set a trap, do they?" He put his food down in aggravation, stood and began to pace in tight circles.

"It would only help their cause," Castiel said, putting his utensil down as well, eyes following Sam's dizzying path apparently unfazed. "They know we are on our guard."

"Listen," Sam continued, "I'd like to at least _try_ to make a difference... one more time." He passed a hand over his face in frustration. "You can help me...or try to stop me if you want to. End it all here and now. Otherwise, I'm doing this, with or without your help."

Castiel just looked at him for a moment, then turned away slightly, a small sigh escaping his lips.

"Okay, Sam," he said. The perturbed look on his face was impossible to miss. "If that's the way you want it."

"We'll go tonight then," Sam said decisively. "Don't worry, I'll be prepared. If there _are_ demons there, I won't argue with you about leaving this time."

Castiel simply looked down at the floor, nodded slightly and was gone. To cool off, Sam assumed as he sat to finish eating by himself. If he wasn't back by evening, Sam would just go alone.

{{{{}}}}

Night had come an hour ago, and still Sam saw no sign of Castiel. Perhaps he had abandoned him to his fate... angels or demons, whatever might come. The angel wasn't answering his cell phone either. It went straight to that strange voice mail that Dean had set up for Castiel months ago. Maybe the angel didn't bother to even check it anymore. Sam didn't leave a message. If Castiel was hoping that Sam wouldn't go without him, he couldn't have been more wrong.

Sam's mouth was a grim line as he gathered what few hunting tools he possessed into his worn backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Some iron, a knife, some rock salt, kerosene, lighter... he had no sawed-off this time. No arsenal to choose from as he had in the past when he and Dean hunted out of the trunk of the Impala. He would make do. He was after all more powerful than he had been when he hunted before. In many ways he felt bulletproof... well, after the incident in the diner, maybe only bullet resistant. He felt certain he could handle himself against a simple haunting. He brought holy water and a crucifix as well... just in case Castiel had been right about the demons.

{{{{}}}}

The BeachWalk was only a ten minute drive from the Easy Stay. As Sam pulled into the parking lot in the small battered car they had been using, the lights of the amusement park sparkled and gleamed in front of him. There was a light mist of rain mixed with surf in the air. He paused, breathed it in, shrugged his pack onto his shoulder, and made his way toward the entrance.

Soon he was surrounded by lights and people and noise, the scent of corn and barbecue and greasy sweets vying for his attention. Sam turned on his heel in a dizzying circle, a smile playing over his lips, waiting for the nostalgia to hit him. But the feeling he expected never came. Sam had imagined he would be enthralled, happy... but, as much as he wanted to be drawn in by it, after a very short time he realized that this was not for him. It never was. He gazed up at the lights on the giant ferris wheel and slumped a little, a wistful expression on his face. The bustle of the crowd and the shrieks and giggles as ride-goers twirled and plummeted in their seats echoed and receded in his ears as he finally steered himself toward the darker side of the park. The side where he belonged. A brief reconnaissance later, Sam was prepared once again for his descent into the supernatural.

The back end of the park was fenced and taped off, but nearby security staff were bunched together in a private group, puffs of smoke and laughter coming from their lips. Occupied as they were, nobody noticed as Sam slipped through into the darkened area and made his way toward the long red-roofed building that he knew housed the closed attractions. The signs for the Scare Stroll with its campy images of ghouls and other monsters and beasts stood out garishly despite the dim lighting. A red 'pardon our dust' sign stood outside the door. Sam made short work of the locks and chains and slid silently into the lobby.

The world inside was a stark contrast to the excited clamor outside. Reality seemed to shut off once the door closed. The profound quiet in the abandoned lobby swelled in Sam's ears like it would explode. Emergency lights glowed, but threw bizarre shadows in random places that almost seemed to move. It was unusually cold too. Sam shuddered before he caught himself and continued through the main hallway into the closed attraction.

The displays to either side of the walkway would have looked common, banal in the light of day, but in the half darkness they seemed to jump out despite their perfect stillness. Sam continued on, slowly, searching for the true monster in this sea of imitations. He wanted to see it to get an idea of what he was up against, but whether this ghost would show itself to him was another matter. If it did, Sam believed that he could dispense with the usual formality of salting and burning and, with his current abilities, send it to the afterlife without much effort. That was the plan anyway.

Wax beasts lined the walls, skin blemished or furred or gaunt with glassy eyes and foreboding stares that tracked everything at once. The air in the building seemed increasingly musty and damp as if, with the closure, all the air circulation had been shut down as well. It had a faintly sweet burnt scent to it as well. Perhaps an electrical problem. Sam wrinkled his nose and sniffed a little. Then through the quiet a small sound caught Sam's attention. He paused briefly, smiled and continued cautiously on.

The passage twisted ahead of him, wide but indirect. A maze that created no wasted space, just a multitude of corridors that moved inexorably toward the center of the building. After a time, the corners were closer together and Sam knew he must be nearing the center. Squinting his eyes against the shadows, he saw it. A glow up ahead. Faint, yellow-gold, past the next turn. The smell was stronger here too, still charred and sweet. He braced himself and turned a final corner... and fell back a step at the sight before him.

There, illuminated in a ring of Holy Fire, trapped like a bug in amber, was Castiel. He was on his knees, head bowed, hands bound behind him, a cloth gag in his mouth. Sam's eyes darted around, but saw no signs of anyone... or anything else in the room. There were several doorways leading from this main room, each marked with a glowing red and white exit sign. He didn't see any signs of movement at any of them. Although this was obviously a trap, perhaps it was a currently unguarded one. Sam could only hope.

"Castiel," Sam whispered, then when there was no response... "Cas!"

Castiel's head snapped up, eyes widened in fear. There was blood on his face. He shook his head slowly and looked back to the doorway that Sam had entered through, then nodded sharply toward it.

Sam stood there for a moment, looked around once more, then shook his head. It was just the two of them here as far as he could see, despite the prickling on the back of his neck that told him it wouldn't be that way for long. That didn't change the fact that he couldn't... wouldn't leave Castiel here. Not like this. He approached the circle. Castiel rolled his eyes, glanced away, then back with a look that demanded Sam's obedience. The angel clearly wanted him to leave, but Sam wasn't one to obey. He never had been.

Sam tossed his backpack to the floor and, as he shrugged off his jacket, he saw them, shadows in the half darkness. Perhaps a dozen demons. As they approached, he even recognized two of them. So it seemed Crazy Larry and Dirty Mary _were_ demons after all. He found himself remarkably unsurprised.

Turning back to the ring of fire, he thrashed at the base of the blaze with his jacket until there was a sizable opening in the flames. Once inside with Castiel, Sam pulled the gag from the angel's mouth, leaving it to hang around his neck. Castiel fixed him with an urgent stare.

"Sam," Castiel rasped out, "What are you doing? You have to get out of here _now_."

"That's fine with me, but it's a little late to just walk out the way I came," Sam said, glancing nervously over his shoulder as he worked on the ropes at Castiel's wrists. "Like I said, I'm not arguing about leaving your way this time."

The ropes fell to the ground, but Castiel made no move to transport them away. Sam looked confused.

"Well, how about it Cas," he said uneasily. "Let's go. Zap us out of here."

"I can't," Castiel sighed.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"Sam... as I thought, this was a trap. And I foolishly walked right into it... as did you." Castiel shook his head. "I'm not sure where they are drawn exactly, but there are sigils here, somewhere, that bind my Grace, they prevent me from using my powers. I can't 'zap' us anywhere." Then the angel looked down as if in shame. "There's not a lot I _can_ do at the moment."

Sam glanced up. The dark figures were closing in around them, gathering at the opening of the fire ring. Sam reached out with his hand intending to squeeze the first demon from its host. The demon he had been focusing on, the nearest one, staggered back a little, then just smiled. A drop of blood fell from Sam's nose and he put his hand to his head as a jolt of pain struck him between the eyes.

"Losing your touch there, huh Sammy boy?" It was Larry, crazy spinning eyes and all. "The angel here managed to take a few of them out before we took him down, but you... you're completely ineffective, aren't you?"

Larry held up a hand and the demons stopped converging. Mary stood at his side, swaying strangely, as if in a trance. The flames made her eyes look hollow, ethereal, and bleak and her stare bored into Sam. Then her mouth dropped open slightly and a trail of saliva fell onto her blouse. Despite the initial disgust, Sam felt a pull at his chest. Not anything tangible, but an emptiness that made him dizzy. It was as if he were being drawn thin, being pulled toward her, though he wasn't even moving.

"What the hell," Sam said, brow pinching, shaking his head to clear it. "What kind of demon are you?"

"Not a demon, Sam." Castiel said, still kneeling. "It's a souleater. It must have imprinted on you at the petting zoo. You must have come into physical contact with it at some time." Sam reached down to help him, and the angel pulled himself stiffly to his feet while Sam's eyes remained fastened to the creature before him as if by force.

"A souleater..." Sam said and Castiel nodded.

"And it's _very_ hungry," Mary said darkly, expression slack, needy. Larry laughed.

"It will devour your soul and take your power into itself... It will take _you_ into itself," Castiel whispered urgently at Sam's side. "Whatever you do, don't let it touch you again."

Then Larry waved a hand and the demons began to close in once again. Sam turned around, searching for a way out.

"Bring him," Larry said.

"Leave, Sam," Castiel whispered harshly, nodding toward one of the exits. "Get to the door... now. I'll keep them occupied."

Before Sam could contribute his thoughts on the matter, Castiel maneuvered until he was between Sam and the demonic contingent, then he suddenly threw himself in their center, straight into Mary. There was a knife in Castiel's hand... an ordinary knife, filched from Sam's backpack he realized. Sadly the demon killing knife was long gone. Sam watched momentarily hypnotized as Castiel ripped Mary's blouse from the bottom up and began to cut a symbol on her belly. Mary shrieked... an unearthly howl that pulled at Sam once again. She struggled to free herself, but Castiel clung fast. Sam paused, glanced around for the nearest exit.

And then, in that scant instant, two demons surged forward from the pack to restrain Sam while those remaining threw themselves on Castiel, kicking him, pulling him, trying to rip him from his target.

Somehow the angel held on to Sam's knife, continued to carve into Mary's pale flesh. Black blood seeped from her wounds and Sam felt a sudden irrational compulsion to help her. She was calling _him_, screaming to _him_. Absently, he wondered why he should feel empathy for this thing that was hungry for his soul. It was part of this 'souleater' crap he assumed. He shook his head like a dog shaking off rancid pond water, forced himself to focus on the issue at hand.

Sam struggled with the demons restraining him, but their hold was like was like iron at his shoulders. He couldn't understand why he was suddenly so weak. First the diner, now this... this was even worse. He reached for the flask of Holy Water in his pocket, but a blow from one of the demons sent it skittering on the floor and into the flames. There were few options left.

Then with one last burst that Sam knew would cost him, he focused all his power on the demons at each side. Blood poured from Sam's nose and he started to feel woozy, but the demons grip slackened... just enough. He pulled away, staggering from the pain behind his eyes, almost falling to the floor in his campaign to escape, and then he was free, and his captors were off balance, torn between retrieving their captive and the shrill screams Mary was still making under the ministrations of the knife wielding Castiel. Sam sprinted to the door... and stopped, glancing around, looking for something that should be there, somewhere.

Looking back into the room he saw that Castiel was bloody and beaten. The knife finally rattled from his limp hand and the angel was dumped unceremoniously to the floor, curled into himself. Then he was dragged away from Mary while the demons surrounding him continued raining blows. As a particularly vicious kick struck Castiel in the temple Sam jerked forward instinctively, as if to help, but Castiel fixed him with a stare, just before his eyes rolled back.

"Sam," Castiel rasped out through bloody lips, forcing himself to focus once more, "you have to leave... _now_!"

But then the demons were again upon Sam and any hope for escape was gone. Castiel closed his eyes, turned away with a despairing sigh.

Demon fingers clenched painfully into Sam's shoulders and Larry laughed again. But then, unexpectedly, Sam was laughing too. There by the door he spotted it in the flickering light; high and to the left, covered over with spray paint and hanging pieces of a tattered plastic curtain... surely a code violation. Eyes narrowed and glittering in the firelight, Sam reached out and jerked the handle of the fire pull station. Water from the sprinklers flooded the room... and then screams flooded it as well. Each demon fell to the ground, writhing, smoke billowing from reddened skin, seeping through saturated clothes. Larry knelt by Mary, holding her hand tightly, and watched it all. Glaring in anger, he wasn't laughing anymore.

In the confused tumble of tortured demon bodies, Sam made his way to Castiel, and after pocketing his bloody knife, hauled the injured angel bodily to his feet with a grip around Castiel's middle and the angel's arm slung over his shoulder. They made their way to the door unopposed, Castiel stumbling along at his side, Sam dragging him forward, and they ran into one of the darkened corridors, the dying light of dampened Holy Fire guttering at their backs.

"You have nowhere to go," a sing-song voice called behind them. It was Larry again. Then his tone was angry, venomous. "You're trapped here... it's only a matter of time."

The hollow echo of Larry's voice followed them and Sam found himself praying... actually praying that he was wrong. But hidden from Heaven, a weakened angel at his side, he couldn't help but think that there was no one left to listen to his prayers.

{{{{}}}}


	5. Part 3 B

**Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings**

A/N Hi, hi... only 3 more to go after this. Thanks again for reading/reviewing :)

Part 3 B

There was very little light in the room Sam and Castiel had sought refuge in. Despite the fact that the corridor they had traveled had a clear red exit sign above it, the doors at the end turned out to be solid steel and were sealed quite effectively from the outside. Turning back the way they came, Castiel still leaning heavily on Sam, and Sam dragging himself along with increasing weariness at every step, they finally found this small control room to regroup, to catch their breath.

Now, Castiel sat slumped unceremoniously in the corner, while Sam balanced himself on a backless stool in front of the switch panel. Both were worse for wear. Blood was smeared on Sam's face where he had tried to wipe it away from his nose with a sleeve and his brow was knitted together in obvious pain. Bruises and dried blood mottled Castiel's face in stark relief to his pale skin while blood seeped from his left ear in a dark rivulet, pooling on his collar.

"The holy water in the sprinklers was a nice touch," Castiel said wearily.

"I wasn't completely sure it would work," Sam said. "I guess I'm not so far gone that I can't manage a reservoir of holy water."

"I already knew that."

"Well, that makes one of us," Sam breathed quietly.

I wasn't able to finish the death sign," Castiel said, chin dropping slowly to his chest. "The souleater is weakened only. It will recover quickly."

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" Sam asked...demanded really, abandoning his stool and sliding down beside Castiel. "You know...this thing that wants to eat my soul."

"I suspected," Castiel said, voice deeper than normal, much weaker too, "I wasn't sure though... at first."

"What is she? What's a souleater, and what does it want me for?"

"It's very old," Castiel replied. "An ancient creature, but very easily influenced. A creature that binds souls. Eats them... in a way. You could think of the souleater as a leash. Once a soul is bound to it, whomever controls it controls the souls in its possession. This one is controlled by demons. Hell wishes to harness your power, and since you would surely not give in to them willingly... they have sought a method to... compel you."

"I felt drawn to her... to it," Sam said thoughtfully.

"Once it... imprints...it attempts to pull the soul in," Castiel said, more slowly, eyes closing, words slurring a little and stumbling from his mouth. He shuddered noticeably. "That is... it is likely... what you felt."

"Cas," Sam asked, concerned, hand reaching for Castiel's sleeve, "are you okay?"

"Sorry...I'm having trouble... I think... I think I'm going to vomit."

Sam quickly snatched up some old newspapers scattered nearby to catch it, but Castiel closed his eyes, pale and sweating, and managed to hold the sick feeling down.

"You definitely have a concussion, Cas," Sam said. "You must have one mother of a headache too."

"As do you... I can see...your abilities are taxing you more extensively than before," Castiel said squinting at him. "You can't fight these demons right now. Nor can I. We are both too weakened."

Sam shook his head in denial knowing nothing good could follow that statement, but Castiel continued anyway.

"Listen to me Sam... You might have a chance to get out of here. I can't heal myself... I don't know if I could even walk on my own right now. You will be more mobile if you go without me. I could... serve as a distraction perhaps."

"No way, Cas!" And Sam was outraged. "What makes you think I would leave you here. Let them take you, hurt you, kill you. Is that what you think of me? That I've fallen so far that I would sacrifice a friend?"

"You don't understand, Sam..." Castiel paused for a few seconds to slow his breathing, more pale than before... then, "They _cannot_ find you. Are you aware of how dangerous that would be?"

Sam just looked at him. "There has to be another way."

Castiel closed his eyes, struggling with his breathing again. And this time he _was_ sick, but the papers were there next to him and he turned his head toward them just in time. Afterwards, the smell was rank and almost made his stomach heave again. He paused for a moment, and when he was sure he was done, folded the papers over, wiped his mouth with a corner of the sports section, and pushed the whole mess an arms length away.

"That was unpleasant," Castiel gasped, then closed his eyes, head against the wall. Sam rested a hand lightly, tentatively on the angel's shoulder.

"Look, I'm sorry, Cas," Sam said sadly. "I'm sorry I got you into all of this. You're an angel of the Lord, for God's sake. You should have killed me when you first came down here. You shouldn't even be here right now. You should be up in Heaven right now... and not..." And then Sam's eyes suddenly widened, hands falling forgotten to his sides. "You should be in Heaven... you should be..."

After a lengthy pause, Castiel opened his eyes again, slowly, wary of the sudden silence. Sam sat next to him quietly wiping old blood off the knife onto his jeans.

"You can't think that hurting yourself is the answer," Castiel said, alarmed.

"No... of course not." Sam said, and pulling himself to his feet, stood next to one blank wall. Then he dragged the sharp side of the blade across his forearm and began to draw on the wall in his own blood.

"Sam... no...don't," Castiel protested, trying to struggle to his feet.

"But it's perfect, don't you see?" Sam replied, working on the angel-banishing sigil on the wall, not pausing in his task in the slightest. "I send you away... but I'll be holding on to you... we'll both be sent to Oz."

"There can be no certainty that it will work," Castiel said, finally managing to stand, leaning against the wall.

"Then you would come back for me," Sam said reasonably.

"It would take too long," Castiel said. "They would have you by then."

"Anyway," Sam repeated at length, "I'm sure it'll work."

Castiel just stared at him, doubtfully.

"What? Your clothes went with you when Dean sent you away, right?" Sam said more than asked, as if that explained everything, shoulders shrugging in a dismissive gesture. "I figure if I'm close enough, I'll be caught in the same effect."

"And if it you're not?" Castiel asked. "You'll still be here... with them."

"It'll work. Don't worry." Sam seemed convinced but Castiel only shook his head slowly, eyes drifting down.

"I still don't know if this is a good idea," Castiel said. "I will be weakened after... everything... then the banishment... I might not be able to..."

"It's better than staying here," Sam interrupted.

"Point taken," Castiel said. "However... my brethren will be there. They must not see you. They cannot know."

There was a short pause as Sam processed this, bloody hand suspended in mid air. He now felt he should have thought of this before. "You're going against orders, aren't you? It was never your plan to kill me. Was it?"

"I think I have an alternative," Castiel said glancing away again. "They would not understand."

"What about me?" Sam asked, hand dropping, the sigil forgotten. His voice got louder as he continued. "Would I 'not understand' either? Why haven't you shared this... alternative? It obviously concerns me."

"I wasn't sure if..." Then Castiel paused, then looked contrite. "I'm sorry, of course we will discuss it."

Then they both heard it. A muffled noise, something falling heavily, footsteps finally stopping in front of the door. It was only a matter of time after all. They had been found and any discussions would have to wait until later. Sam hastily completed the sigil he had started and it was just done as the first jolt slammed against the door. Castiel had sunk once again to the floor and Sam had to lever him up next to the markings so he could reach. Sam positioned his hand, readying himself to activate the sigil, then the voice came and he stopped.

"We know you're in there," Mary's voice seeped under the door, beckoning. "Come to me Sam..."

Sam was frozen. The call was strong, pulling him again, pulling his soul. Finally, eyes glassy and blank, he left Castiel to lean against the wall and started toward the door, hand moving toward the latch.

"Sam!" Castiel said sharply, jolting Sam out of his trance.

Once again, Sam found himself trying to physically shake the souleater's influence from his head. Then, blinking hard and steeling himself, he turned back and reached for Castiel.

"Be ready... keep your eyes closed... whatever you do... and do _not_ let go," Castiel said, giving hurried instructions between too fast breaths as he concentrated on keeping his knees from buckling. The renewed pounding at the door nearly drowned out his words. "Once we are sent from here, providing this does indeed work, I will transport us away immediately." The angel shook his head minutely. "I can only pray that I will be strong enough. We will have the element of surprise though. With any luck, the others will not follow."

"We're going to heaven?," Sam asked, slightly dazed.

"No," Castiel said. "Just somewhere... nearby. It will be just as dangerous though."

The door was now perilously close to giving way under the onslaught of the demons outside. Sam turned back to the sigil and, gripping Castiel hard, slammed his hand into the center of the drawing. He could still see the flash of bright light despite tightly closed lids and he hoped his eyes weren't burning out anyway. Then there was a horrible pulling and rending through his body, and deeper still Sam felt as if he were being pulled through the eye of a needle, quite literally. He heard Castiel's screams, and realized they were mingled with his own. And then they were gone, leaving the frying pan for what Sam could only assume was going to be the fire, despite its Heavenly connotations. When the door at the Scare Stroll at last burst open, it was to an empty and darkened room and the smell of ozone.


	6. Part 4

**Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings**

A/N: Didn't realize that all my pause/breaks had been removed from the previous chapters :( Apparently the document manager doesn't like asterisks? I just fixed them. They should read better now. Sorry I didn't catch it sooner. Feel free to tell me if you notice anything else out of whack so I can fix it too... Anyway, here's the next chapter :)

Part 4

Sam couldn't immediately remember how he got to this place. His mind was still fuzzy and he probably wouldn't have remembered his own name... had he remembered to think about it. All he knew is that it was cold, and that the floor beneath him was hard and unforgiving as he crashed down onto it. He also remembered that he wasn't supposed to open his eyes for some reason, so he held them tightly shut. His arms were clutched around something too... no, somebody.

It came back slowly, bit by bit. Feelings first, then concepts, then finally coherent thought. There had been the light, hot and cold at the same time. Burning and freezing, but it had not lasted for long, the pain of banishment had ended in a terrible light, which had in turn given way to the rough, disconcerting, though comparably pleasant feeling of angelic transport. Then he was here. And it was an angel who was beside him, who had brought him here. Yes, it was Castiel... and they were safe. He hoped. He cracked open his eyes cautiously, still a little worried despite the fact that there didn't seem to be any light here to burn them.

"Cas?" Sam pushed away and nudged at the back of the tan trench coat in front of him. He heard a groan from it. "Castiel, are you okay?"

"Sam," a hoarse voice intoned. A short pause, then, "I'll be fine. I just need some time to... regain my strength. Are you injured?"

"No. I'm good. Mostly. Just cold... really, really cold," Sam said, noticing that his teeth had begun to chatter. "I don't suppose you could get us out of here."

"I'm afraid not," Castiel said, flopping onto his back to stare blankly at the high ceiling. "I am too weakened right now," he continued, voice fading, cracking more and more with each syllable. "I think I might... I might need to sleep for a while."

Sam glanced around. This was a church, he realized. A cold, unheated church, probably in Siberia or some such place, since they could really be anywhere in the world. In the pale light coming through a high vaulted window stained in red, yellow, and green, Sam could see that the angel appeared to be in worse shape than before. The bruises and cuts from before hadn't healed, and now he was bleeding from his nose as well as his ear. Then Castiel's body slackened and his eyes fluttered closed, lashes dark against pale, bloodless skin.

"Cas?" Sam reached to nudge him again, but got no reaction this time except the steady motion of the angel's chest rising and falling with each breath. That at least was something.

There was nothing to do but let Castiel rest, he supposed, and hope he would be able to heal himself and get them back to civilization once he woke. But Sam was shivering in earnest now. His jacket was forgotten somewhere near Santa Cruz, and his backpack with emergency supplies including the foil blanket was gone as well. On top of it all, his head was still woozy and painful from the confrontation with the demons not long ago. He needed to crash as well to recover, or he'd be useless.

"Why couldn't you have picked a nice church in the tropics somewhere, Cas?" Sam breathed, mostly to himself, since Castiel obviously wasn't listening. He wrapped his arms around himself. Then after a moment's hesitation, reached out again and touched the unconscious angel in front of him. To his surprise, Castiel was actually hot, not shivering at all.

Sam settled himself onto the floor beside the angel. It was basic survival skills 101 after all, sharing body heat. He had none, and Castiel obviously had a lot to spare. Sam spread out one side of Castiel's trench coat out with trembling hands and proceeded to lie down on it.

"Of course, this doesn't mean we're going steady or anything Cas," Sam said, again more to himself than anybody else, a slight flush to his cheeks.

Castiel didn't seem to mind though, in fact he didn't say a word... not that Sam was expecting him to. Then Sam pulled the angel until they were face to face, one arm under Castiel's head and the other locked around to secure him... and he reveled in the warmth. Castiel was practically glowing with it. A deep grateful sigh escaped his lips in a small puff of chilled breath. It was _not_ comfortable, and he was still not altogether warm, but the tremors wracking his body gradually slowed, finally stopped, and he thought that maybe he could sleep as well.

As he drifted away, a fleeting thought passed through his mind wondering what Castiel would make of their position when he woke up. Sam found he really didn't give a crap right now, then he too lapsed into unconsciousness.

{{{{}}}}

Sam thought this was starting to get pretty old. He had roused from unconsciousness so many times in the last couple weeks that he was starting to lose count. At least this time he was warm, he thought resignedly. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he found that he was lying on another lumpy mattress. He was also covered by overly starched sheets and blankets that smelled of old cigarette so strongly he could taste it. He crinkled his nose and opened his eyes.

Definitely a motel, but a different one than before. The curtains were drawn tightly shut and only a small lamp in the corner of the room was lit. Castiel sat in a chair at the small round table at the side of the room. He was a weary form, head bowed and supported on the back of interlaced hands. The angel looked rumpled, his trench coat smeared in places with dirt and blood and soot, but the bruises and cuts that Sam could see from his vantage appeared more closed and faded, if not completely gone. He didn't seem to notice that Sam was awake.

Sam coughed, once, and Castiel's head jerked up startled, but he regained his equanimity quickly, stood and walked over to the bed.

"Sam," he said. "How do you feel?"

"I feel..." and Sam had to think about it for a moment, "I feel... okay. Better than I have in a long time." Then he scrunched his nose a little. "Despite the fact that the Marlboro Man was apparently the last person who stayed in this room."

"The sign said the room was non-smoking," Castiel replied, matter of fact.

"I can't believe you actually understood that reference," Sam said, surprised, smiling a little.

"I have been attempting to expand my knowledge of 'pop culture.'" Castiel said proudly. "I seem to be experiencing some measure of success."

Sam thought that even with some pop culture knowledge under his belt, Castiel still seemed stilted, foreign, but decided not to mention it since the angel seemed so pleased with himself. Then he pushed himself up to a sitting position, legs swinging over the side of the bed, covers falling away. He did feel better than he had since returning from Hell. Different. Almost normal. He looked down at his hands critically, then up at Castiel, eyes widening.

"Is this... demon blood thing..." Sam seemed to struggle for words. "Is it wearing off? Am I getting better, Cas?"

"Yes, Sam," Castiel said. "It would seem so."

"You knew," Sam said, eyes narrowing. "You knew all along, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam demanded, accused.

Castiel's lips closed into a tight line and he looked down, as if fearful of retribution. Sam couldn't help noticing again the angel's disheveled appearance. The tired stoop to his posture, the not quite healed wounds and bruises, and the filthy, torn clothing.

"Why aren't you healed, Cas? It's got something to do with all of this, doesn't it?" Then it dawned on him. "You're losing your Grace again. Is it because you've gone against the other angels?"

"You have to understand, Sam." Castiel began. "The last time God brought me back, at the cemetery after you dragged Lucifer back into Hell, I returned... different. Not only was I back in touch with Heaven and my Grace, but there was something more. I didn't know immediately what it meant."

Castiel walked back to the chair and sat down. Sam just continued to look at him. The angel hadn't denied it. So his Grace _was_ fading.

"So, God gave you the power to fix me?" Sam asked, hopefully. "To... to make me right again?"

"In a way..." Castiel said. "I didn't think about any of this again for months. And then I took your execution as my assignment." Castiel sighed. "I knew I wouldn't be able to kill you, but if I hadn't volunteered to go, another angel would have. When I came to see you, I had plans to take you somewhere, to hide you, keep you safe."

Sam continued to stare at Castiel, disbelieving, trying to wrap his mind around this new development that seemed to have come squarely from left field.

"Once I arrived though," Castiel continued, "I knew. I understood that the way my Father had brought me back... It had not been without reason. The minute I stood in your presence... I felt something."

Sam closed his eyes, remembering back. He suddenly thought he should have noticed it before, or even at the time, but he hadn't. He had been so angry, so... overwhelmed with grief, frustration, and a host of other negative emotions, that he hadn't even realized that he had also felt something when Castiel arrived.

In fact, if he had been paying attention, he would have known back then that the day in Vancouver had been a turning point. He had been more relaxed than he had been in months, and the ever present knot in the pit of his stomach had gradually loosened to the point where he could finally eat and smile and think of good things again.

It finally occurred to him that he _hadn't_ been losing his abilities because the demons were more powerful than those he had faced before, but because he was _less_ powerful. And Castiel's powers were diminished as well. They had both been decreasing, little at a time. There had been other changes too. Among other things, the angel had been _eating_, perhaps it hadn't been just to be polite.

"You're losing your Grace..." Sam said, drawing out the silence for a few seconds, "... and you're giving it to me."

"Not quite," Castiel said. "However, as I told you before, your power is diametrically opposed to my own. I believe that while we are in close proximity the two are effectively canceling each other out. It seems there is an exchange taking place, but each side is left bound... ineffective."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure you would approve, Sam. Lately ... you've seemed so willing to end your existence. Almost like you wanted to. I don't believe you're thinking clearly. I'm sure it is simply a side effect of the demon blood though. I expect it will pass."

"You think I'm suicidal."

"You're depressed. As I said, you're not thinking clearly."

Sam shook his head. "My thinking is just fine, Cas, and I can't let you do this."

"I believe it was for this reason I was brought back," Castiel said. "To save you."

"After all I've done, you think you were brought back for me? Did it ever occur to you that God might have brought you back simply because of all you did when the other angels abandoned Him?" Sam asked. "That and you were willing to give up everything to do right by Him."

Castiel gave him a sad look. A thin almost-smile.

"That's not why I disobeyed Heaven. Not for Him. I did it for Dean. I can't imagine that I would be rewarded for that. No, I am a warrior of God. We are meant to serve His purpose. I have always been and will continue to be a means to an end, nothing more. "

And he said it as if stating a universal truth, no resentment, only resignation.

"You deserve to have this chance, Sam... please just accept it for what it is."

"And what about Jimmy? Where will he be?"

"Jimmy is fine... he is at peace. He will be home. What more would you expect?"

"Will your Grace come back if I leave?" Sam's expression turned stony, tone sharp. Jimmy deserved to go back to his family someday, not just home to the fields of the Lord, without passing Go. The whole thing was completely unfair.

Castiel looked down. "Sam, you have to understand..."

"Will it?" Sam demanded, cutting Castiel short once again.

"This is His will." Castiel's head snapped up and he fixed Sam with a stern glare. "Stop attempting to defy it."

"That's crap!" Sam practically exploded, and Castiel actually started a little, eyes wide. Sam didn't appreciate the angel's attempt to bully him. Those tactics hadn't worked when Dean used them or when his own father had used them for that matter, and Castiel would be no exception to the rule. Then he said more calmly, "Enough people have sacrificed already."

"As have you." Then Castiel sighed, visibly deflated, hand absently rubbing at his temple. "Please, don't argue this Sam. I don't have the energy right now for it."

"Have you slept?" Sam asked, concern overtaking his anger, but only briefly. Castiel just looked at him. "Of course not. You just sat there while I was out, didn't you?"

"You couldn't have been more vulnerable," Castiel replied. "Of course I would watch over you. There are still demons searching for you... and now my brothers know you're alive as well. You're not safe."

"You won't be of any use if you collapse from exhaustion," Sam said, a hard edge to his voice. "It's a limitation of being human. If you want to go that route, you'll have to get used to sleeping."

Castiel gave him a grim look. "I realize that, Sam."

The silence that followed was deafening, and Sam was almost sorry for speaking so harshly. The angel after all was only trying to help, but he needed to deter Castiel in any way possible, even if it was through cruelty. Sam also knew as he watched Castiel walk toward the other unused bed, watched him lie down, clothes, shoes and all, that the angel couldn't want this. Not really. He just seemed so saddened, dejected, blatantly out of place. But Castiel would do this anyway out of some misplaced sense of duty. He would give up his family, his place in Heaven, his very self because he thought that God had willed it. Because he saw no value in his own existence... or Jimmy's apparently. Sam did though, and he wasn't going to allow the angel, or anyone else, to sacrifice for his benefit... not anymore.

A few minutes later, after Castiel's breaths evened out into light puffs, Sam made a decision. Castiel would forgive him someday, probably thank him in 20/20 retrospect, even though Sam wouldn't be around to know. Jimmy would certainly be grateful. He glanced back into the darkened room at the sleeping angel as he left, then closed the door quietly behind him. When Castiel woke, he would find himself alone.

{{{{}}}}


	7. Part 5

**Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings**

A/N: Ok... longer chapter this time. Epilogue will follow tomorrow. Hope you're enjoying so far :)

Part 5

It took several hours, a stolen van, and a few tanks of gas purchased with a fraudulent credit card before Sam finally arrived. At least it was closer than California, since Castiel had relocated them to a motel room in Kentucky after their brief trip to... wherever it was they had gone after their run in with the demons. There weren't many people he could turn to anymore. Of course Dean was out of the question, Bobby would tell Dean, and just about everybody else he had trusted was long since dead. He was not, however, completely out of options.

Sam hadn't been to Kripke's Hollow in a long time, and he hoped that Chuck still had his connections. Not the book publishing ones, the Heavenly ones. He also hoped that Chuck was also still easily intimidated. That would make things easier. However, he was disappointed to find that Chuck had gone, apparently a few months ago, taking his connections to the archangel Raphael with him. The old woman Sam talked to seemed happy to be rid of her noisy neighbor. Apparently Chuck hadn't even gotten his security deposit back after the last raucous party had wrecked the place.

Sam stood on the street in front of Chucks house, and laughed mirthlessly to himself, then began to wander aimlessly down the street. Maybe the angels would just see him and strike him down. He turned his head to the sky, arms outstretched for all the world to see, like a man having a psychotic break. He stopped in his tracks, turning and turning.

"Come and get me," Sam shouted, drawing stares from a woman working in her yard, from a man washing his car. "At least give me a sign." It was almost funny how when he wanted to be found, there was nobody there to find him.

And when he stopped, slightly dizzy, there it was. A tall spire, a cross on top thrusting above the treetops. Then the sounds of the bell tower started, And Sam smiled. With the Chuck option out the window, where better to contact Heaven than at a church. Second best, but he hoped it would do. It was close enough and he didn't bother to drive. He started at a fast walk, then threw himself into a run. He was almost there. It was almost done.

{{{{}}}}

It was a Catholic church. The newer section was locked, but the older section, the building with the spire and the high arched doors, was open. Sam stepped inside, and despite the dim lighting, most of the pews were full. The old priest, dressed in green, stood at the lectern near the alter, apparently ready to begin Mass. But as the door fell closed behind Sam, the room was abruptly silent, parishioners turning from their seats to stare at him accusingly. Sam dropped his head sheepishly, feeling more than a little conspicuous.

"Sorry," Sam said, voice reverberating in the silence. "I didn't mean to... I'll just..."

He looked around but all the seats were filled in the back of the church, unfriendly stares seeming to become more and more impatient, heads shaking in disapproval.

"Nice welcoming bunch you are," Sam muttered under his breath. "Maybe I'll just come back... later." He was about to turn and leave despite his mission, when the priest cleared his throat, loudly.

"There's room in the front young man," he said in a thick Irish accent. "Please be seated so that we may continue."

Sam nodded his thanks, made his way quickly to the front row and sat down, ducking down a little to keep from blocking the view of people behind him with his tall frame. It was silent for a time as the parishioners audibly settled in again, then, when the rustling was done, the silence drew on a little longer. The priest, smiled, took one last glance at Sam, then addressed the church in the opening words of a Latin Mass.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii...No... no that's not right." With a disgusted look, the priest closed the book in front him with a loud slam, then tossed it to the floor. Sam looked on astounded, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"No, no, no..." the priest shook his head, face contorted. "Let's try that again, shall we?" He placed his hands on either side of the lectern. "In nomine magni dei nostri Satanas..." Then he looked directly at Sam, eyes turning black, and smiled broadly. "...introibo ad altare Domini Inferi."

Sam moved to stand, but arms circled him from behind, holding viselike, and he couldn't budge, just fell back down into his seat. He looked around as well as he could, restrained as he was, and once again all eyes were upon him. They were black too. Of course he would have picked a church full of demons just about to start Black Mass.

"Ah, uh, uh," the priest chastised, wagging a finger in Sam's direction as he stepped down from the alter. "Where do you think you're going? You _are_ the guest of honor after all."

So, maybe not chance after all. He pulled at the hands binding him, but to no avail. Then, even though it was a long shot given his declining abilities, he lashed out at the priest with his mind. The priest only blinked, and smiled again.

"No more than a mild breeze," he said. "Don't worry though, Sam. We'll get you revved up again. A few more Bloody Mary's... with real blood mind you, and you'll be right as rain again."

Sam was disgusted at the very thought. He was finally coming down from the effects the demon blood had on him. He was almost cured, and now they would drag him down again. He wanted to weep, but instead stared defiantly at the priest... no, demon priest, he reminded himself.

"H...How did you know I would come here?" Sam managed to stammer out.

"The prophet seemed like a good bet," The priest laughed. "We've got every church for miles covered."

"Well here's one thing you didn't bet on," Sam said, hoping his poker face was good enough. "The angels know I'm here."

The priest glanced around, eyebrows raised and eyes wide in mock fear. Then his face snapped back to Sam with a malignant look.

"I think not," he snorted derisively. "If the angels knew you were here, you would have never made it this far. No... you're ours. And as soon as the souleater arrives, you'll be ours forever."

Sam started his futile struggling once again. There was nothing more he could do, but he wouldn't... couldn't resign himself to this fate. Other's would suffer... again. Unfortunately, his struggles only weakened him, and he found himself slowing, panting for breath as his ribcage was compressed, feeling every bit his human self.

Now, as he gazed at the taunting faces surrounding him, Sam thought not only of all the destruction that had been left in his wake, but of the future devastation his new life would have to offer. His previous strength harnessed for demonic purposes. For death, hatred, suffering, all because he had been selfish, wanting to go on one last road trip of all things. Because Castiel hadn't killed him the minute he had the chance. But, no. He wouldn't bring the angel into this. Not when the blame rested squarely on his shoulders, as it always had... always would.

"'Famous last words', I believe the saying is," a voice grated out from the back of the church.

Sam tried to swing around but couldn't. It sounded like Castiel, quotation marks and all, but it was too much to hope. Then a maelstrom started and the arms around him slackened, released, pushed him to the floor on his hands and knees. He looked up, and all around him there was combat, hand to hand, knives, and short swords that he recognized as angelic. The angels had found him. It was what he had been hoping for. But, if these were angels, why was he still here, still breathing. There was something wrong.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder he swung around, fist cocked behind him, ready to strike out... and Castiel was there. He was out of breath, but somehow he had managed to get through skirmishing angels and demons to Sam's side. Sam sighed in relief.

"How did you find me?" Sam asked.

"It took a little time, but we are linked. You have much of my Grace after all, even if it is inert now. I can still feel it."

"And the angels?"

"I brought them here," Castiel said. "There were too many demons to handle on our own. I'm sorry."

"I understand," Sam said, then braced himself, eyes closing. "Okay. Do it, Cas. Kill me. I'd do it myself if I could, but your way is infinitely more permanent."

"No."

"But... you have to. The angels..."

"No longer want you dead," Castiel said.

"So... they're willing to let you cure me? To let you lose your Grace for a human?" Sam said, incredulous. And of course they would be. If it would somehow benefit them. What was one defiant angel and one human who missed his family to them. But why? Then the words began to spill out angry and desolate. "Why does this seem like a good idea to everyone all of a sudden. I _should_ be punished. I _should_ die."

"Whatever motivation some others may have for keeping you alive... I know you Sam. You are a hero." Castiel said, seemingly unaffected by Sam's outburst. "Whether you want to believe it or not. You stopped Lucifer, and at great cost. Any transgressions you may have made occurred while you were trying to do the right thing, and those have been paid for many, many times over."

Castiel shook his head when Sam looked down to study the floor.

"It's not enough," Sam said.

"The angels don't want you dead, Sam... and they don't want you cured," Castiel said softly, meaningfully. "They don't even know about the transfer. If they did, I wouldn't have been allowed to come."

Sam looked up again. There in the doorway, at a distance that could be miles away for the obstacles that would have to be conquered to reach him, stood the souleater. There was still blood on her torn shirt, and she looked more wraith than human at that moment. She was staring at him. Larry was no longer at her side, she was alone. She made no move to approach, simply licked her lips, and leaned against the inside of the door frame. Despite the battles raging around her, she, like Sam, was left untouched, and he had a horrible feeling that he knew why. Then there was the pulling again. Sam saw her lips move, too far away to hear, but he could have sworn he heard her anyway... inside his head.

_Either way... you _will_ be mine..._ and her mouth fell slack, open, wet.

Fighting the need to look at Mary, Sam's head turned back to Castiel, searching for a reason that this couldn't be true. The saddened expression on the angel's face was confirmation enough.

"They've found another alternative," Castiel said, his lips thinned into a grim line. "It will simply be another hand holding the leash."

"No... Why would they..."

But Sam knew the answer. Instead of destroying him, the angels had apparently decided to use him for their own purposes. Angels were soldiers, accustomed to heeding commands, not making choices on their own, and autonomous decisions were now being demanded of them. They _needed_ leadership, and if God truly didn't wish to interfere, there would be chaos. They would be forced to exercise free will that they had little or no experience with, good or bad. It was only natural that mistakes would be made, but Sam did not want to be one of those mistakes.

"So you do it, Cas," Sam said desperately. "Stop this."

"I can't kill you, Sam," Castiel said. "You're my friend..." When Sam opened his mouth to protest, Castiel pushed on, "... and you are a _good_ man. You don't deserve this... as bad as you feel, you must come to realize that all of this will pass. That there will be light and happiness and goodness for you once again. Some of the way you're feeling... it's part of the evil that still possesses you. It will fade given time."

"It's not worth it... not now," Sam said. "There's too much at stake. And... you can't let them use me like that. The things they could make me do... I couldn't take it. Not on top of everything else. Please Cas."

"There is an option," Castiel said.

Sam shook his head, backing away a little.

"I _won't_ kill you, so just let me cure you. Please."

Sam looked around them. Bodies from both sides littered the floor, bloody puddles on the floor around them. Only a few demons were left now. The angels were winning, and they would soon converge to reap their spoils. Mary was edging closer by inches, eyes unblinking, tongue resting on her bottom lip, though still a long way off. She would devour him, that much was very evident, and he would find himself a pawn of the victor in this battle, a hammer. He really had no choice. He would do as he was asked.

Though Sam instinctively wanted to argue, to exercise some control, he realized that ultimately he had none. He probably never had. Each series of decisions was a succession of heuristics; actions and reactions meted out based on tangible cause and effect, but the big picture had ultimately eluded him. Even so, there _was _a big picture, and everything had led up to this. Whether he planned it or not, it had all drawn together into this nexus. He felt he was being swept to sea by a succession of brooks and streams leading finally to a surging river, and no matter how he tried to fight the current, he would eventually find himself in the ocean, floundering, at the mercy of every wave and eddy that would find him. Forever.

"It_ is_ God's will, Sam," Castiel said, face peaceful, _knowing, _perhaps even a little pleased with himself beneath it all. It was all wrapped up in that look of resignation Sam had seen been seeing far too much of lately. "You don't _need_ to understand. Just embrace it. Have faith."

And there it was. Maybe Castiel was right. Maybe, just maybe, God_ was_ the ocean. Maybe there was nothing else left to do but let the current carry him and hope for the best. _Pray_ that someone out there knew what was going on. _Trust _in someone besides himself. And Sam knew that when it came down to it, he trusted Castiel, even as he found himself skeptical about God's plan for him. And he supposed that Castiel had enough faith for both of them. He found himself wanting to believe in God's plan as he believed in the angel beside him. Maybe the ocean wasn't such a bad place to be after all. Maybe there would be peace there. Finally, resigned, he closed his eyes and nodded his head minutely. "How..." Then Sam decided he didn't really care. "Just... do it."

The serenity around Castiel was purely angelic, and though small and tentative, his smile was more plain than any Sam had ever seen on his face. The angel's face took on a pale, ethereal glow as he drew closer to Sam, then closer still. Sam felt his personal space grow smaller and smaller as Castiel encroached on it, but he found he didn't mind. There was a warmth, a rightness to this. He could feel the gentle touch of the angel's glow brushing the skin on his face, his arms, like a gentle summer sunbeam. Like the caress from his mother's hand must have felt, if only he could remember it.

"I have to be... near to you," Castiel murmured, eyes searching for understanding. "The closer we are, the faster my Grace will bleed into you. It's almost gone anyway, there's just a little left... then it will be done. I promise it won't hurt."

Sam nodded in taciturn permission, eyes closing as Castiel moved even closer. Then it was as if an event horizon of sorts had been crossed, and Sam knew there was no turning back. Warmth rippled across Sam's face and neck in stronger and stronger waves that somehow never lost their gentleness, even as their urgency seemed to increase exponentially. Castiel grasped his arms gently, then the angel's lips touched his. Eyes closing, Sam could feel Castiel's Grace coursing between them, buffeting him, offering itself, while at the same time filling him with hope and promise and pushing away the remaining darkness like it was cleaning tarnish from a silver set. Warmth and strength lapped at him, and despite himself, he instinctively soaked it in like a thirsty sponge. Then the glowing peace finally began to give way to a dark, calmness. Castiel's grace faded, then at once was gone.

The clamor of battle around them had all but completely subsided as Sam felt Castiel go slack in his arms. Sam opened his eyes and looked at the angel leaning against him, eyes slightly open, peaceful looking despite the remnants of bruises still mottling his skin in pale yellows and greens. Castiel wasn't glowing anymore, and Sam could feel somewhere inside himself that it was all over. It was as if some sort of balance had been restored, and he and Castiel were very much the same now, touched by neither Heaven nor Hell.

"Cas?" Sam asked, gently shaking the angel... no, he was human now. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sam," Castiel said as he weakly pushed himself away from Sam's supporting grip, dropping to sit once again at Sam's side. "I am simply... tired. Without my Grace to counter it, I think everything has just caught up with me."

A look of guilt crossed Sam's face. "I'm sorry, Cas."

"You shouldn't be," Castiel said, turning a small sad smile in Sam's direction. "I'm not. It is as it should be."

Sam thought Castiel was lying, but just smiled weakly back. Then he was startled by a small noise to his other side. His world had narrowed, dangerously, and now it was as if he were waking up and becoming once again aware of the world around him. He turned his head, and started. There, only inches from him was Mary, her eyes closed as if she were deep in a sort of rapture. Her right hand, distorted into a clawed parody of its previous form, latched onto the side of Sam's face, other hand gripping his shoulder. His heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. All of this and he would still be prey to the souleater. At least she wouldn't have any special demonic powers for her and the angels to harness. He latched his hand around her wrist, but it didn't budge, so he just sat there frozen in horror.

Sam waited for a time, but he didn't feel any different. Eyes that had instinctively closed against the souleater's attack, blinked open, confused. Mary still knelt beside him, hand gripping him, a look of concentration on her face, eyes squeezing tighter and tighter. Sam threw a questioning glance at Castiel, who hadn't moved and really didn't seem concerned at all, then he heard a desolate keening from Mary and his gaze was drawn back to her. Her hand fell away, angry fingernails leaving red welts on Sam's cheek, and his hand went instinctively up to press on the wounds she left behind.

Nothing had happened. Sam was still there, and Mary was now huddled in the corner, anger, disappointment, even fear radiating from her. Sam looked back at Castiel in confusion.

"The imprint was broken," Castiel said, softly. "She couldn't grasp your soul anymore, not since it has changed."

Sam shook his head incredulously. It was all over. He was human again. He and Castiel were in fact the only two humans in the building. He glanced around, unsure what would happen next.

As the last of the demons fell, the remaining angels turned in place and looked toward Sam, neither advancing nor retreating for some time They stood taller than their vessel's forms could have possibly been, a clear indication of their imperious nature. Their eyes were utterly devoid of any anger or joy, just measuring, appraising, _judging_. Sam noticed that Castiel closed his eyes and turned from their scrutiny and he put a hand on Castiel's sleeve for support. At last, Sam could have sworn he saw disappointment and perhaps disgust in the angel's otherwise passive faces before they finally turned and were just gone. It seemed that as far as they were concerned, there was nothing of value left behind.

{{{{}}}}


	8. Epilogue

**Please see prologue for disclaimers/warnings**

A/N: Sorry about the lateness of this... I got stuck at work. Whew! Happy to be home :) Many, many thanks to all who took the time to review... I appreciate every word... you made my day again and again ^-^ Thank you also to everyone who read, favorited, or put this on their alerts pages. This of course is my last update for this story. If you still have any tips on stuff I did wrong/right now that it's done, feel free to let me know. Thanks again! :)

Epilogue

The old Volkswagen hippie van trundled along the highway on its small tires. Sam didn't feel safe taking it over sixty five, so they just barely managed the speed limit. Probably for the best, Sam thought, since they didn't really need to draw any extra attention to themselves in a stolen vehicle, nor did they have anywhere they particularly needed to be.

Sam glanced off to his right. Castiel sat in the passenger seat, his seatbelt propping him up while his head rested against the side window, eyes closed, apparently sleeping. In fact he managed to continue to sleep even with the van's poor shocks and the occasional road patches that jarred the vehicle well beyond what would normally be expected in a reasonably maintained vehicle. Sam wondered at the fact that Castiel even needed sleep now, let alone that he was so good at it. Even with so little practice.

Sam couldn't get one incredulous thought out of his mind though. It kept repeating even as he occasionally diverted his attention to other considerations. There would be no more angels and no more demons for him, or at least no more than the usual hunter's lifestyle would produce. At least he hoped this would be the case. But whatever else happened, his death sentence had been lifted, and he and Castiel were riding happily into the sunset, more or less. Except that the angel was now human, vulnerable, and homeless, and Sam needed to figure out what to do with the rest of his life.

The sun had drifted below the horizon about a half hour back, and all that was left was a slightly lighter blue smear of pale twilight in front of them. So much for riding off into the sunset, Sam thought with a sigh, nobody could outrun the sun. Nothing ever ended that easily anyway, but it seemed that the sun always managed to come up over their shoulders eventually, even after a long dark night. Hopefully this would continue to be the case.

"Cas?" Sam finally asked, tired of entertaining his own thoughts. "Castiel? Are you sleeping?"

"Not anymore." Castiel said. After a moment, he straightened up in his seat, eyes still clouded, face drawn with exhaustion.

Sam felt a little guilty for waking him just because he wanted to hear another voice besides the one in his own head.

"I'm sorry, Cas." Sam said. "Go back to sleep."

"That's okay," Castiel replied with a stifled yawn, hand rubbing at his shoulder. "My neck hurts. I believe it's from sleeping."

"It's not from sleeping, it's from sleeping all cramped up in a van," Sam said. "We'll pull over in the next town, find a motel there.

Then it was quiet again, silence hanging like a barrier between the two of them. There were things Sam still wanted... needed to know. Things that didn't sit right with him. If this was God's plan, why was there still inequity? Why did innocents have to pay so that the guilty could be redeemed? Castiel didn't need to hear these questions right now though. He looked lost enough sitting there, and probably didn't need any additional burdens on top of coping with his newly minted humanity. So, Sam stared sadly, quietly into the almost faded light. Castiel stared ahead too, an unreadable expression on his face.

The silence continued for a short while longer before Sam blurted out the thing he promised himself he wouldn't ask only minutes before. Despite himself, there was nothing he needed to understand more. He hoped Castiel would understand.

"What about Jimmy?" Sam tried his very best not to sound accusing, he didn't think he succeeded.

"I told you, he's home."

"In the fields of the Lord... I know, but..."

"No," Castiel interrupted. "He's home with Amelia and Claire. We promised him as much."

"Are they..."

"They're fine."

"On earth..."

"Yes."

"Then how are you still..." Sam waved a hand toward Castiel, "in his body?"

"I'm not." Castiel looked down at himself, appraisingly. "It is similar though. This is is a body much like Anna's... when her earthly form was destroyed after her Grace was restored. A copy of sorts. It has been this way since I was brought back."

"Why didn't you tell me he was okay?"

"I did. In the motel in Kentucky. You acted like you were listening, but I guess I can't always tell. I don't recall you ever asking before that."

"But..." and then Sam stopped. He was done arguing and simply willing to accept the fact that things were simply... the way they were. He allowed himself a long, cleansing breath. It must have come out as a sigh, because Castiel was looking at him, eyes narrowed in concern.

"Are you okay, Sam?" Castiel inquired, staring into him so deeply that Sam almost forgot that he was no longer an angel.

"Yeah," Sam said honestly. Then he shook himself and said more conversationally, "I guess I really am. For the first time in my life... I am. How about you?" There was a long pause as Castiel seemed to reflect on this, then Sam said, "Of course you'll miss Heaven, won't you?"

"I suppose I will," Castiel said, a wistful look on his face. "I'll just need some time. I know I will adapt, but I can't help but to miss it."

His home, his Grace, his identity. Sam realized that it was a stupid question the minute it came out of his mouth, but by then it was already too late. He knew that there was no way Castiel wouldn't miss it... all of it. Sam could see it in his face. Despite his insistence that he was 'all right,' or that it was 'God's will,' Castiel would still feel that hole. Like the day Sam lost Jess, or Dean, or Dad. Some holes could never be filled, while some... well, perhaps the means to heal some were _not_ forever lost. With his new, unblemished life, he was finally in a position to find one. Sam made a decision then and there, and he found himself driving with more purpose, more hope.

"Do you have any idea what you want to do now?" Sam finally asked.

"I'm not sure what type of employment I would be qualified for, if that's what you mean. My skill sets are somewhat limited. What do you think I should do?"

"I don't know. Maybe you could be a minister or something."

"I've been told I'm not very diplomatic," Castiel said shaking his head. "I am... was a warrior of god. We have little use for tact, and I don't think that would go over very well with parishioners."

"Office work? Factory? Sales?... Church librarian?" Sam offered, but Castiel just looked at him blankly and tipped his head slightly to the side as if deep in some line of thought that was just as quickly dismissed.

"A hunter then," Sam said. "You could hang out with me, learn the ropes. Until you get on your feet that is..."

"It would be most appreciated," Castiel said, then nodded approvingly. "I have had positive experience with the shotgun. Yes, I think I would like being a hunter, Sam."

The silence hung between them again, but this time Sam didn't mind. It was comfortable now, no longer filled with too much uncertainty and apprehension, just thoughts of the future. It was a future filled with choices, but none of them would be decided for him anymore. It felt good to be free from the yoke of destiny that had bound him for his whole life. He would no longer be defined by the things that had been done to him, but only by the choices he would make, from now on. Despite the losses that could never be reclaimed, he thought he would be alright eventually. Sam felt sure that Castiel would adapt too, just like he said he would... maybe with a little help from his friends. In fact, he was certain of it.

"Where are we going?" Castiel asked.

"West, I think."

"I realize that. Are we on our way to see Bobby?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "And... well, Indiana's sort of on the way too. Thought we could stop and see how Dean and Lisa and Ben are doing."

"I would like that," Castiel said, with the first true, unadulterated smile on his lips that Sam had seen since this trip began, and then Sam smiled too.

It was true that there were holes in the soul that could never be closed, just slowly scarred over as time passed by... like Jess and Dad; like Heaven and Grace. But then there were those that _could_ be fixed, and Sam knew that for him and for Castiel, there was one hole they had in common that could be healed.

_...That somewhere on the road, I will turn into the person I want to be. I will turn into the person I believe I could be, that I _am_..._

_-Ira Glass_

_fin_


End file.
